


In Beds & Haylofts

by Avelera



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Shire, Chub Appreciation, Chubby Bilbo Baggins, Cunnilingus, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Female Thorin Oakenshield, Female Thorin Oakenshield, First Time, Fluff, Married Couple, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, chub Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Bilbo and Thorin made love was in a hayloft above Beorn’s barn, which was something she liked to remind her dwarven wife whenever she brooded over dignity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Beds & Haylofts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutobuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/gifts).



> This fic was written as a gift for the lovely rutobuka2, who is far too good to me. 
> 
> Special thanks to ninayasmijn, godihatethisfreakingcat, and ahiddenkitty for the beta help!

The first time Bilbo and Thorin made love was in a hayloft above Beorn’s barn, which was something she liked to remind her dwarven wife whenever she brooded over dignity. Bilbo also liked to remind Thorin that _she_ was the one who was supposed to fuss over things like propriety, but occasionally Thorin would get wrapped up in trivial matters like anniversaries, gifting jewels for Bilbo’s hair or making sure she was treated with proper respect by her fellow dwarves, and Bilbo would nudge her and grin and whisper in her ear, “Remember, my dear, our first time?”

Thorin would flush beneath her beard, and it was clear that the memory was flashing before her eyes. Bilbo hadn’t even known whether Thorin was a man, or a woman (as was her preference) for quite some time after they met, as the dwarves made such a show of calling Thorin by name that it had taken her weeks to discover if she was right about Thorin’s fine, aquiline features, and confirm she had indeed met the first dwarven woman in her life.

There had been no mystery though when they lay out on a spread blanket over the straw, and Bilbo had traced the tough muscles of Thorin’s stomach that led down to a thatch of dark hair. Bruises from the warg bites still stained her torso, yet she had never been so beautiful as Bilbo slipped downward, smelling medicinal ointment and soap as she nuzzled against dampening curls and Thorin shuddered, head tossing from side to side as Bilbo dipped down with her tongue.

Bilbo had never made love to anyone so strong before, never felt such hard muscles jump and twitch below her hand as Thorin gasped, first in surprise and then with deeper sighs of need. Bilbo scooted closer, looping her arms under Thorin’s knees, tracing her fingers up surprisingly sensitive skin until she found Thorin’s breasts. Even like this she could just barely reach far enough to thumb Thorin’s soft nipples, pinching them to stiffness as Thorin’s gasps took on a high-pitched whine. Bilbo squeezed and stroked Thorin’s breasts between pinching, and she tasted musk and heat and fresh dampness as Thorin whimpered, grinding her clit against Bilbo’s button nose.

Thorin was so wet, Bilbo had to take small breaks just to _breathe_ , heat coiling in her own gut so that she could not help but rut against the blanket, rubbing her own thick thighs together for some hope of friction. But this was too delicious to give up without bringing Thorin to completion and she heard the bereft sigh of loss at her pause. Just a moment longer, just to look.

Bilbo panted as she looked down at Thorin, her lover’s eyes were shut and her throat working. A flush crawled from beneath her short beard and down her to her breasts, the nipples now red and sensitive from pinching. Little muscles twitched in her abdomen and with Bilbo’s absence her breathing was deep and desperate and her thighs rubbed together wantonly, slick with desire and saliva. Her hair was dark and streaked with silver and spread like a fan over the bed when her eyelids fluttered open and she looked with glazed blue eyes up at Bilbo, lips parted as she gasped.

“ _Please_ ,” Thorin said in that fine, deep voice that had sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine even when it had only been used to chastise her over these past months. Now it was used for begging and well, wasn’t that a turn? If Bilbo ached before, she was practically dripping now. Yet surging beneath was a new, terrible fondness. She had supposed… oh, that Thorin would be rough with her, growling and demanding and forcing her own pleasure first. 

Yet Thorin yielded with almost shy hesitation in Bilbo’s arms, sighing beneath her touch and guiding her for kisses, never demanding more, until something Tookish had taken over and Bilbo slipped down on an impulse driven purely by need. Thorin did not growl, did not order, only looked up at Bilbo, eyes bright with desire, open and vulnerable.

Goodness, if this was to be the way it was between them, Bilbo wasn’t sure how she would ever leave the bedroom, ever stop looking at Thorin, or do aught else but gaze after her like a besotted tween.

Bilbo shook herself, realizing she’d been lost in simply looking, a wry smile playing at her lips at the thought, and she ducked down again rather than leave Thorin wanting. She had no desire to be such a dreadful tease, especially at the first flicker of uncertainty on Thorin’s face, as if wondering if _she_ had done something wrong.

Thorin _whined,_ actually whined, a creaking, broken sound as Bilbo’s tongue flickered over her clit, and her back arched so that glorious body pressed against Bilbo’s hands and she had to reach to caress Thorin’s breasts again, rewarded by a bone-deep shiver as Thorin pressed against her hand, guiding her to continue with a moan. Thorin was getting close, Bilbo could taste it on her tongue and feel it as the shudders and shivers grew more frequent, more intense. She massaged harder at Thorin’s breasts, thumbing the nipples and pushing them together, working them with her hands.

“Bilbo, Bilbo, I’m, _ah_ , please…” Thorin babbled in a broken whisper, mindful even now of the need for silence, and Bilbo looked forward to the day where they wouldn’t need to worry about that as she redoubled her efforts with her lips and her tongue, until Thorin was literally shaking beneath her, whimpering and swearing under her breath and hissing nonsense endearments that Bilbo could barely discern and she felt the moment that Thorin tilted over the edge with a gasp as her muscles tightened, and Bilbo licked her through her climax, glorying in Thorin’s writhing, her whimpers and soft cries. Bilbo only broke away when she felt firm, callused hands on her shoulders, begging her up, wrapping her in strong arms with a sharp nose buried against her throat, pressing kisses to her collarbone as Thorin shivered through wave after wave of aftershocks…

 _Ahem_.

Well, that was a long time ago. Nowadays their lovemaking was not quite so fraught with peril, which had added a certain spice at first but grew tiring when all one wanted to do was take her slow, steady time with her love. They also, luxury of all luxuries, had her bed in Bag End to use whenever they liked, with fine thick walls that kept anyone from prying into their affairs.

A lack of peril and a few years of peace had done wonders for both of them. Bilbo had regained the pounds she had sadly lost on their journey. She had often felt peaky and ragged on the road, though that was often as not because she was covered in troll snot or spiderwebs or other such offal that she shuddered to think of. She would never trade those days, of course, but the constant availability of a hot bath was a blessing she did not think she’d ever grow tired of. She was once again felt plump and clean, and dare she say it, rather lovely these days, though that was usually when Thorin was looking at her with that ridiculous soft looks that always left her fluttery and weak in the knees.

It was nothing compared to the changes that their quiet retirement to the Shire had wrought on Thorin. She had lost that pinched look of constant wariness and anger, her smiles frequent and easy these days. Erebor was in good hands, and her many burdens laid aside, and with her terrible wounds now healed it did not seem she would be fighting another battle for her life any time soon.

Thorin had been a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of meals in the Shire, explaining that dwarves enjoyed a feast as much as the next hobbit, but theirs tended to be infrequent affairs. Still, Thorin had acquiesced with good humor, and very soon found herself on the receiving end of a hobbit on a mission. That mission being to make their quiet, married life in the Shire as full of simple pleasures as Bilbo could manage with her not-inconsiderable willpower.

Thorin had been wryly amused at first, appreciation and thanks dancing silent in the sparkle of her eyes, once she was over the initial embarrassment of being so fussed over. Eventually, Thorin had come to accept that Bilbo was in fact not overly confident that she could convey how much she cared for her dwarven wife with words that were not poetry, unless they were quite literally at death’s door, and to avoid needing to go quite so far in the future, she would make up for it with cooking, and stolen kisses, and nights like that one where she took her slow, easy time worshipping every inch of Thorin’s body.

Bilbo hadn’t been able to keep her hands to herself since Thorin had first given her permission to touch, but if her heart had skipped like a nervous rabbit when they had retreated up to the hayloft, now it was no less unsteady and her mouth no less dry as she took in Thorin seated against the headboard wearing only a shirt so light it was see-through, her body outlined by the fabric. Thorin was reading by candlelight, as she did on many nights before they found their bed, and the light flickered in the silver streaks of her hair and along her jawline and in her eyes as she glanced up and put her book aside at Bilbo clambering onto the bed to join her. Another smile (Bilbo was going to have to ask Thorin to be more careful with those, as they were not good for her ability to think rationally) as she crawled up to deposit a kiss on her wife’s waiting lips, then crawled into her lap for good measure.

“Did you miss me?” Bilbo said cheekily, nuzzling at Thorin’s nose with hers.

“You’re the one who insists I wait up until you finish writing your page,” Thorin murmured back. “Are you ready for bed now?”

“For bed, if not perhaps for sleep,” Bilbo said, and added the very subtle hint of her hand sneaking up under Thorin’s shirt.

This was the treasure that made her mouth go dry just to think of it. Of course she loved Thorin’s form no matter what it was, hard or soft, broken and bleeding, or whole and healthy beneath her hand. Bilbo would love her no matter what form she took. Even if Thorin were an elf, she had crowed once while they splashed together in the bath and Thorin had given a squawk of outrage and threatened to drag her under the water, or worse, kick her out of the warm tub.

She had loved Thorin’s hard muscles the night they’d made love at Beorn’s, but Bilbo had to admit there was something utterly sinful about Thorin’s body now. Delicious meals and softer living had brought Thorin to full lushness, with round generous breasts and a layer over soft padding over the muscles that made Bilbo go weak just to think about, reaching somewhere into her essential hobbityness doing terrible, terrible things to her that she was only too happy to turn to the use of doing terrible, outrageous, unrespectable things to Thorin.

And right now, Thorin wasn’t wearing anything except the shirt.

Bilbo shifted, nudging her knee between Thorin’s naked thighs so it rode up against Thorin’s sex, nudging the dampness there as her hands wandered higher, pushing the shirt up over Thorin’s belly so her breasts peeked out from beneath, heavy and soft and just begging for Bilbo’s touch. And she was quite happy to say she had not an ounce of self control to resist, ducking down to take the left nipple in her mouth as she massaged the right with her hand.

Thorin made a broken sound, her head thunking what seemed far too hard against the headrest and her clit grinding against Bilbo’s knee, a heady reminder of how wet Thorin got with even the lightest touch, and how quickly.

Thorin’s body was so soft and lush these days Bilbo would get dizzy just thinking about it, just longing to touch with her hand or lips. Bilbo teased the nipple with the tip of her tongue until the soft flesh pointed, nibbling and sucking with just a hint of teeth to make Thorin gasp in the most gratifying way above her. They were heavy in her hand, and so sensitive to even the lightest touch she could not help a giddy grin as she traced idle strokes down Thorin’s side and up, trailing through the furred armpit to make Thorin twitch, then back to grope at her breast again. Thorin’s hands shuddered through Bilbo’s curls, and down her back, finally stopping at the bottom of her own shirt and tugging.

“Now this seems unfair,” Thorin observed, her voice low and hoarse, cracking once as Bilbo broke away with a final flicker of her tongue at the nipple.

“Mmm, do I have to stop?” Bilbo murmured against the skin, just above one of the many faint scars that littered Thorin’s body, breaking up the fine dark hairs scattered across her torso.

Thorin only chuckled under her breath, well familiar with her wife’s games, and pulled her shirt over her head, sliding down to lie flat and Bilbo joined her, also tossing her shirt away. If she had to name a favorite of the thousands of things she loved about Thorin, lying next to her skin to skin must be one of the very top. Her dwarven lover was like a furnace; they hardly needed blankets even in the winter. 

Once lying flat too she could take a moment to appreciate Thorin’s body, the curve of her stomach that still bore a faint outline of the hard muscle beneath, now shrouded by many lovely hobbit meals in their kitchen or in the garden under the lanterns and stars, peaceful days spent reading or in bed together or any other number of gentler hobbies than fighting off wargs or traipsing cross-country.

And Bilbo couldn’t get enough of it.

Except she had no sooner shimmied down next to Thorin when the dwarf flipped over to straddle her, pinning Bilbo’s wrists by her ears and bending to kiss her soundly with rough, abrasive kisses from the scrape of beard. Bilbo squawked and knew herself to be well and truly caught, there was simply no way she could overpower Thorin’s grip at this angle. The tips of Thorin’s breasts brushed teasing against her as she held herself above Bilbo, and her stomach as well such that Bilbo whimpered and arched up for a kiss.

“If I release your hand, will you still let me have my way?” Thorin said, smirking against her lips.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere else, if that’s what you mean,” Bilbo said tartly, but barely got the words out before Thorin was kissing her again, her thick fingers stroking downward, trailing down Bilbo’s side and finding her sex, rubbing the flat of her hand against it in slow, lazy spirals. “If you think to tease me all night, you’ll find out what those lovely feet of mine that you love so much feel like between your eyes,” Bilbo groaned, grinding up against Thorin’s hand, seeking friction.

Thorin chuckled, and her fingers dipped lower, resting on her entrance, teasing at it. Bilbo groaned and pressed harder against them until they were slick with her desire and Thorin could finally slip two thick dwarven fingers inside her.

Bilbo keened into her wife’s mouth, falling back as pleasure shook her and Thorin made use of those rough and skillful hands. Bilbo sometimes struggled with doing two things at once with different hands, but Thorin was fully ambidextrous in battle as well as in bed, and seemed to have no trouble skillfully exploring her body and breasts with one hand and keeping the pace rubbing inside her with the other.

Yet even glazed over with desire, she could not let the matter go wholly uncontested, and Bilbo’s right hand curled up to tease her fingers at Thorin’s sensitive clit, hearing her lover sigh as she set to a much gentler pace. Her dwarf was so very fierce in most ways and so very delicate in a few surprising others. No amount of pain from brushing a hot stove would make Thorin even flinch, but give her barely-there touches and…

The breath _whuffed_ out of Thorin’s lungs as she pressed her face against Bilbo’s cheek, hands still working, but there was a stutter in her motion as Bilbo brushed her fingers against the slickness between Thorin’s thighs. Thorin whined against her, flesh hot and a blush rising to her cheeks as Bilbo gave as good as she got.

They both worked faster, each seeking to outdo the other in this little game of pleasure between them and finally Bilbo could take it no more, turning on her side towards Thorin and kissing her fiercely as shudders and shivers tightened in her loins and crept up her spine until she thought she would go mad from those fingers moving within her. The sensation crept higher and higher, the motions faster and faster until she was gasping into Thorin’s mouth, coming hard with her wife’s name on her lips broken by a desperate keen.

No time to calm down, no time to _think_ , Thorin was so close she was shaking and Bilbo could finally appreciate her wife’s body even as pleasure still thrummed through her own. She pressed Thorin’s breasts together, licking and suckling both nipples at once as she nudged a knee between Thorin’s thighs and her dwarven wife grabbed her around the shoulders, holding her close and grinding against her leg, hands fluttering around Bilbo’s curls. Bilbo felt delirious just thinking about Thorin’s body, but those breasts were under her hand was making her dizzier still and she could not get enough of the smell, and the touch and the taste.

Thorin came silently, even after all these years, but no less forceful, clutching Bilbo against her lush and lovely body, breathing heavily in her ears, hot and needy and almost enough to tip Bilbo off again by sound alone.

But if there was anything quite so delightful as Thorin’s climax it was when she relaxed, languid and affectionate, holding Bilbo against her as murmured thanks and loving nothings.

Bilbo curled against her wife, sweat cooling on her body, pleasure still a zinging memory in her veins, taking the kisses as they were given and returning them. Between beds and haylofts she would always take the former, but in the end it really mattered not a jot so long as Thorin was there with her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into femslash smut, so I'd love any kind of comment you'd like to give, however long or short ^_^
> 
> If you liked this fic, you should check out the lovely art of rutobuka2 on Tumblr or come over and chat with me, Avelera, over on my blog there!


End file.
